The peace of my heart
by LilyBartAndTheOthers
Summary: Paul Auster wrote a trilogy...? Too easy... I'm on my way for an anthology! Sequel and last one... to Dedicated to you. WK fic.
1. Ode to Joe

I fell in love for the first time when I was six. His name was Joe and even though none of us had learned to read yet, I was still able to draw hearts in the sand that the waves took away within the sharpness of time. We were living in Santa Monica and what was supposed to be a summer stay under the bright sun of California finally turned into an almost balanced life in the quiet streets near Ocean Park Boulevard. My father had been hired by a local newspaper, so far from The London Times where he had previously worked until then. It took me so long before understanding why we had left England in the anonymity of the night, dropping out everything behind; our toys, our clothes. My sister was too young to realize the slightest change but for my part I had already abandoned the purest innocence of the first age and I witnessed everything, felt every single aspect of adults' hopes and fears.

Then he arrived one day riding his red bike. It was a brand new one with golden flames on it. Every morning the birds flew away as soon as the wheels of his terrible machine pissed the asphalt of our street and I stayed there, behind the window of the living room, smiling as soon as he passed in front of me. His father was a professional surfer and his mother earned her life painting abstract forms, multicolored ones. They had a bohemian life that made my hazel eyes green with envy, hating more and more the monotone routine of my own. Lord knows how I would miss this stability though a couple of years later… Joe was blond with big blue eyes, always sun-tanned. I loved observing his ankles, still extremely fine and delicate where the sun had embraced his skin in a perfect harmony. My parents bought me a bike and we happened to find ourselves in the same class. This is how it all began; the walks on the beach, the hours spent riding our respective bikes and this implicit attraction that we didn't dare to name and that made the other kids laugh and the grown-up people look at us sweetly.

"Close your eyes."

I did. The end of the day had spread its singular smell over Venice beach and was now caressing my face warmly; some apprehension though making my heart beat faster for not knowing the reason why he had asked me that. It didn't even last two seconds. The contact had been furtive but I had nonetheless had time enough to notice the softness of the gesture and the explosion of happiness it had wrapped me up in. My cheeks reddened and I started playing nervously with the sand, digging holes to express my nervousness. I looked at him and smiled, blinded by the sun; and then I decided that Joe would be the guy I would spend the rest of my life with. He would be the only one allowed to kiss my lips as he had just done. I was his. Our bikes found a restful place in the garage of our houses and we replaced them by our hands and this fictive life we pretended to have; four children and a cat called Wizard. He made beautiful castles that the waves embraced before the night falling and I was convinced that one day our sandy homes would win over the ocean. His father Jim signed a contract with an Australian team and they moved within a week to Victoria on the other end of the world; twenty-four hours separating us in a fatal motion.

We said goodbye and promised to keep in touch. Our love wouldn't fade away because distance is not supposed to have any hold over such strong feeling. Of course everything stopped and I had no news from him; just a couple of hearts that the waves kept on swallowing, no matter how big I traced them in the sand. My father died and my problems began; this absence of logic and balance that would engrave my current injuries and settled down all these insecurities. I grew up and focalized on all the rest, from new flings to teenage despairs. I guess I changed too much and that's why he didn't recognize me the day we crossed in Venice Beach. I was twenty-two and looked nothing like the little girl I had been once; long dark hair was now covering my feminine curves and glasses were hiding my eyes. I knew right away it was him because my heart seemed to set off exactly as it did by then, fourteen years earlier. I looked at him and smiled shyly, hoping he would remember me and so it would be the perfect time to start it all over again.

But he simply turned his back at me.

I drew a line under romantic ideas, deep feelings and happy endings. It hurt too much to be tried and something kept on telling me that anyway love was just a legend more in the cruelty of life. I gave up my hippy style to become a socialite and then I married Stan. I thought I would be able to turn the page that way, to forget about Joe. But at the darkest times of the night he used to come back to my heart through the brightness of the sun of California; the waves behind. He embraced the same career as his father and very soon everyone started speaking about his talent for defying the rage of every single ocean, every single sea of the world. He died ten years ago attacked by a shark somewhere in Hawaii. I read it in the newspaper one morning. He was survived by nobody. I thought by then that my only chance to be in loved had just disappeared and crashed in the immensity of my disillusions. The exact same day I got hired by Grace and Will came into my life.

This is not an accident but a sign. We should be careful though. The ghosts of our past are never that far behind.

Karen put down Leah on her crib and let herself slide in bed carefully; then turned the lights off.

There's always a chance they come back and haunt our current life.


	2. Leah the green plant

Her hand slid along the cotton of the pajamas, caressing the fragile spine underneath the piece of clothing. When her palm seemed to hold tightly enough the head, she lifted the body up and planted a kiss on Leah's forehead, smiling shyly. She was impressed, almost intimidated by the tiny frame of the baby even though the strength of the cries and the sudden movements of feet, arms and legs brought a sort of fake reassuring balance to her soul. The days passed by slowly through the awkwardness of the beginnings; with the peculiar sentiment to know someone by heart and realize all of a sudden that she's still a perfect stranger whom fate decided to put into our lives for a long while, for whatever reason. The fusion between a mother and her child was complex and mysterious but nonetheless appealing. This is how Karen saw it, her relation with Leah. What did she know about her except the fact she had given life to her heart? Weirdly enough the dark-haired woman felt in the way for having brought the essential parts to her daughter's existence, the vital ones; but still ignoring completely the details that made the difference. _Importance results in invisibility, all these things we don't see for being blinded by the loud aspects of reality. We should pay more attention to quietness and its meanings. _

She turned around a bit too quickly and the bib flew in the air before landing on the hardwood floor next to her. A disarmed expression on her face, the millionaire looked at it blankly for a few seconds and finally decided to squat down but her own apprehension spread its coldness over Leah who started crying right away. She stood up back instinctively and frowned, every single attempt of solution getting suspended in the air as the weight of her daughter began to make her forearms sore. She hated that, the sound of her cries. Yet at the hospital when the scientist had taken the baby away for medical exams, she had heard her crying from the bedroom; her heart breaking into pieces before her incapacity to ease the pain and find a solution, a sweet one so that Leah may get back to sleep. She had refused the nursery and preferred a stacatto night than to be away from her daughter and let the cries haunt her nightmares for being so far, so useless. She could have recognized Leah crying anywhere, at any time. Abandoning the idea of putting her back into her crib, Karen moaned, completely overwhelmed by the ridiculousness of the scene.

"Do you need some help?"

Grace came in and picked up the bib, smiling before Karen's red cheeks. She didn't say a word for knowing her friend too well; how the slightest weakness made her furious as if she were simply unable to be in charge of anything, not even herself. Of course she was wrong but something had pushed her through the years to this certainty that she had to prove her own capacities of independence to anyone, at every second of her life. But she looked way too strong to not be sentimental and the result was, if you paid attention to her gestures, the exact opposite of what she was looking for. She was obviously sweet, extremely sweet.

"I still have a lot to learn… Sorry."

The statement was unexpected but the interior designer hid her surprise and smiled.

"It's a matter of time. You're doing very well until now. Can I take her in my arms?"

The dark-haired woman nodded and looked with bitterness how Leah calmed down immediately in Grace's arms, a wave of shame spreading over her heart for not being able to do the same properly. Sometimes she felt like she was doing exactly what she had always tried to avoid. Her friend saw the slight despair in her eyes and opened her mouth to reply but Karen stopped her, hand in the air.

"It's okay… I'm just not good at taking care of human beings; and plants. I killed Will's favorite one this morning. Let's hope I won't do the same with his daughter because this kind of species is not on the market every Saturday."

"Oh, come on… It's not easy and you may lack babysitting experience. When was the last time you looked after a new-born?"

She bit her lower lip and stared blankly at Leah's foot that was caressing Grace's wrist then vaguely wondered why she never did that to her while she was her mother. She closed her eyes for a couple of seconds, swallowing back the wave of tears going up slowly but surely and shrugged.

"As a matter of fact I never did."

"You never did some babysitting for a neighbor or whomever?"

"No, I didn't. I left the house when I was sixteen and before that we didn't stop moving out so I never had the chance to look after a baby. Olivia and Mason came up all grown-up yet and anyway they had a sort of Super Nanny."

"What about your sister?"

"She's three years younger and even though I did look after her, well… The result isn't that positive. She's a bitch."

Karen looked aside, trying to catch back her breath after such declaration; not that it had been long but extremely exhausting in an emotional way, troubling, and one more time since she had given birth to Leah, heavy feelings were coming back to the surface slowly, painfully. She took her daughter and put her down on her crib, her finger sliding along the little cheek before planting a kiss on her nose. Her jaw started shaking and so she left the room, avoiding her friend's gaze.

"Yeah, I'm not good at it. I'm sorry."

Her murmur got lost in the silent despair of her soul and life went on.


	3. Welcome to New York City

The bus stopped and the brouhaha of the half-asleep passengers woke me up with an unexpected softness. For a couple of minutes I stayed still, my face leaned against the dirt window, observing a homeless girl who wasn't older than me; huddled up against herself on a bench. All of a sudden her blank eyes looked up and stared at me with the lethargy of almost dead people, the one who lost hope for a very long while yet and spend the rest of their time waiting for the end. The baby she was holding began to cry but she didn't pay attention and kept on looking at me as if she could guessed the reason why I had landed there at six in the morning on Christmas Eve. She shook her head at me before vanishing behind another bus arriving to Port Authority.

This is my first memory of New York, the feeling I was doing something wrong and that it was still time to get back from where I came but when I looked at the next departures, I realized that even the anonymity of the city would be warmer than all the homes I had stopped by previously. Anyway I had already forgotten the provenance of my own trip.

I've always been lucky. My story sounds creepy and sad but it's just extremely lonely at the end. I never spent a single night outside, in the coldness of the streets; clutched to a subway entrance, turning my back at the crowd of strangers who would pretend not to see me. I stopped by a coffee store on Madison Avenue and the exact evening I was invited by the man I would marry a couple of years later. I don't know about misery; I never lived it. I witnessed violence and experienced grief but the rest is pure suppositions from the heartless millionaire I became very soon. My words overcome the poverty of my life and save me somehow. I wouldn't be a lot without them today. Perhaps I would just be different but not necessarily sad and empty as I am now. Or I would be dead and forgotten.

He was forty-five and loved smoking cigars; not because of the peculiar taste of the most refined Havana but for the so-called power it gave him, the ridiculous appearance that wealthy people spend half of their lives, if not entirely, looking for desperately so that an ounce of respect may ease their lack of self-confidence. He was nice, sweet and attentive but incredibly boring, playing poker in the smoky private clubs that still control the high society of New York. I didn't see him a lot, barely crossed him from time to time in the immensity of the penthouse and if I had to symbolize him by a word it would be a suitcase; for the well-definite angles of his opinions and the simple fact he was constantly travelling. He had built his fortune on real estate challenges. Some day he was lucky, then the wind changed of direction and he lost a couple of millions but he could allow himself all these eccentricities and I guess that's why I accepted to move in.

For hating ignorance he made me graduated and sent me to Sarah Lawrence. He had a thing for Arts, like any new fortune, so I began to study it until Harvard opened its heavy doors to me and I changed for Laws. He considered me as his doll, a cute thing as docile as a pet that you feed and try to educate. We married the day I turned eighteen and he died for our second anniversary. His private jet crashed in the middle of The Andes which I could never explain as he had told me he was heading to Switzerland. I found myself with his money and a seriously interesting position to defend in the upper class society. I guess I also missed him. Not that I had ever been in love with him but accidents are way too tragic. Nobody deserves such an abrupt end. We should be able to make some calls and say goodbye before the end. However which is sure is that he had left me with the despair of my real wishes.

I owe him a lot if not everything. After all he gave me the possibility to succeed, in my own way; falsely. He introduced me to the very closed high society and turned my life into a wealthy nightmare. I could have ended up in the street like this junkie teenager at Port Authority or been an invisible waitress serving at a diner for six dollars per hour; a lonely soul wandering through the streets of New York without any pretention while I love shining, being noticed and cared about. I know it's just a materialistic compensation but it's still better than nothing. I was only sixteen years old. I left the house in the middle of the night taken away by the fury of some adolescent crisis. I disappeared on one of the most important days of the year for a family but she never looked after me while I was just a kid. I didn't fit in her plans obviously and when I happened to meet her again a decade later, by accident, she looked at me and said it was good to see me; just that. I had gone away so that she may catch me up and stop everything because I needed her; I missed her during all these years.

But she never did.

I've been given everything but my mother's love. I don't think I will ever overcome it but as the snow of Christmas Eve had faded away for a long time I let it go in silence.

Karen left the building with timidity and awkwardness, weighing people's gazes on her. She hurried up, uncomfortable, then crossed the street and entered the coffee store; smiled at Will when she saw him waiting for her, Leah in his arms. A carol was playing in th background and the smell of coffee wrapped up her troubled heart.

She never tried to save me. She never did.


	4. The power of rosemary

"Where does it come from?"

She picked up the dark bottle and narrowed her eyes, reading with difficulty the provenance of the item that appeared in very small letters on the label.

"It comes from Spain."

"And you took rosemary because…"

"The girl at the store told me it was a very relaxing smell and added to the massage, it was just heaven and not too strong for a new-born. I put the bottle under Leah's nose and she didn't start crying so I assumed she liked it. You should have seen her face before lavender. It was a complete disaster."

After hours and hours of serious studies and researches, Karen had finally decided to put in practice her freshly learnt knowledge about essential oils and massages. For some unknown reasons unless it was just superstition, she had looked with a certain distance at the pile of baby care guide books growing little by little on her bedside table, on the sofa near the fireplace and even in the toilets, abandoned on the floor, during her pregnancy but she had never opened any of them; barely paid attention to the cover and the smiling mother whose artificial beauty seemed to irradiate the picture a bit too much. And then Leah was born; a bit too early but she was there and couldn't be ignored. She was an entity, a real person and as soon as she had held her tiny body in her arms, Karen had known that she would do her best to take care of her properly. Perhaps she simply had needed the contact of the skin, the heat of some alive person against her, crying, moving, because until then it was just a mere fantasy.

With a lot of care she put down Leah on the bed, taking her time, slowing down the slightest gesture of her hands; softening her voice. She looked at Will who was sat next to her, observing the way she was behaving with their daughter.

"It's important to speak to her. Apparently they recognize the sounds and the tone of our voices. Of course they don't understand what we're saying but if I started speaking in French, she would notice a difference. Isn't that crazy?"

The attorney smiled before the millionaire's craze for baby care and evolution. How could she think then that she was doing badly? Not that she had already said it out loud but her lack of comfort was obvious in spite of her day-to-day efforts. She was constantly hesitating before the slightest decision, absorbing useless stress and looking way too long at her worst memories. She wasn't the one to blame for it but her silent despair let Will disarmed and in pain for not being able to put an end to her insecurities. So as usual he simply replied by some sweet attention of his, hoping she would be satisfied in spite of the poverty of his acts and he grabbed her hand, holding it tightly; then leaned over and kissed her deeply, taking Karen by surprise. She broke apart and frowned, a delighted smile on her lips.

"What was that for, honey?"

"Since when do I need a reason to kiss you? Hell, don't tell me we're already at this monotone stage of a relationship when a conversation that lasts more than two minutes and isn't food-oriented makes our day brighter."

He won as the dark-haired woman burst out laughing and kissed him back, thanking him through a silent gaze for being here, for all the things they had built together and the rest that had to come. They turned the lights off as the candles were tracing fluid shadows on the walls, joined from time to time by the lights of a truck, a cab passing in the street below. Taking off carefully Leah's dark red kimono top, Karen let her palm make full-contact with the warm stomach, smiling as peacefully as she could at the baby whose lack of words had been substituted by a deep attention to the caresses she was being given. Obviously she liked it and the millionaire began to relax little by little. The oil was hot against her skin and she surprised herself shivering as a drop fell down along her forearm, tracing a little greasy path on her pale complexion. It was soft and pleasant, carrying on a maternal sweetness like a light kiss, a sincere one; or just a smile that would mean everything. She leaned over as her fingers slid along Leah's chest, reaching her neck with the delicacy of love and care. Will stayed quiet and followed with his eyes the circular movements of Karen's hands. After a moment he laid down and began to caress his daughter's head, observing her relaxed features and how she seemed to appreciate the massage.

"She's beautiful, Karen."

"Of course, she is. I don't give into ugly babies."

Smiling at the remark, the attorney grabbed the bottle of essential oil, closing his eyes as the smell of rosemary went to his head in a fresh whirl.

"Can I try? Show me what I'm supposed to do."

Karen looked up at him, surprised not by the request but the comment about her own gestures. She frowned and blushed, vaguely shrugging; pushing away with the back of her hand a strand of hair falling into her eyes.

"It's not really complicated, you know."

"Perhaps it's not but you look talented. Leah loves it."

And it was true. The new-born was sagely looking around her, her fists now released; the palms of her hands wide opened. The previous bath had probably a lot to do with her current state of mind but it was obvious that the soft pressure of Karen's fingers on her skin was a pure moment of delight in the motherly relationship. All of a sudden a cute gasp made Will and Karen turned around as Jack entered the room and literally melt under the scene lit up by the soft shades of the candles. Smirking, the millionaire raised her eyebrows, almost apologizing before a troubling evidence.

"I know, Jackiebear… Karen Walker is always on her knees for a massage."

The actor rolled his eyes and shook his head, observing with curiosity at Leah.

"Grace just called. They were passing The Brooklyn Bridge."

The dark-haired woman moaned, delighted, and leaned over to kiss the baby's stomach; then put an end to the massage but still looking at Leah, she smiled brightly.

"Now let's put you on some awesome dress. You don't have to look pretty but simply stunning when your aunt or whatever she is, Olivia, arrives."

She stood up holding her daughter in her arms, against her shoulder; a profusion of kisses as making her way to the other bedroom even shorter, peaceful and sweet. The red of the flames dancing through the candles seemed to find their echo in the ones of the fireplace, bringing a warm atmosphere to the flat, softening everyone's features. But there was something more that evening, Karen could feel it.

For the first time since a very long while, she was in perfect harmony with her life.


	5. The moon and the yew tree

I remember the movement of a skirt, a black one. In spite of the fluidity through which the fabric seemed to fly in the air, a sort of heavy sentiment was wrapping it up and it was oppressive. She was standing before the fireplace because I could see the flames in her back. It was raining and the house lacked light, people turning into shadows as if they just wanted to disappear and be forgotten. Nobody talked; it was all about murmurs and stifled cries, the clicking of the glasses and high heels walking slowly on the carpeted floor. Perhaps the years transformed my souvenirs, adding a tragic touch to it but it comes back to me through a gloomy atmosphere; a confusing moment. I was cold and lost in this unfriendly afternoon, looking all around for the slightest reference, a reassuring smile. I guess I spent most of my time sat on his armchair, wondering why he wasn't there; why it sounded so sad. And it took me a while for not saying a couple of years before me realizing that my father had died.

I don't have any picture of him; it's just about a vague and fuzzy series of memories that I probably made up with the time. It didn't cross my mind that I should take a couple of photographs when I left the house. After all I only wanted her to see that I wasn't fine; a kind of silent attempt to be helped but she missed it out. I couldn't tell you about the color of his eyes or the shapes of his features. When I try to picture him out, I find myself facing a blinding sun and so he remains in the dark. I see him tall and I can feel his smile on me. Most of the times we are on a beach or in the backyard of our house in London; my mind must choose some classic places that remind me of my childhood. The first one I mean; before the funeral. Then something got broken, spreading irreversible sequels on the rest of my family. I don't understand why I'm so divided when it comes to this loss. My sister was younger and so she has even less memories of him. She should be more frustrated than I am. Unless it's simply worst when we have souvenirs that start fading with the time passing by; it's just a wonder, you know. But perhaps I was already too old for a complete ignorance; too young for a healthy realization. I mixed it all and it set off everything.

He used to carry me on his shoulders when we were off for a walk. We spent a summer in Cornwall when I was four and from the top of his body, I could admire the cliffs; the green of the grass and the waves crashing below. It smelled of peat and an invigorating breeze was caressing my face as I balanced from right to left under his unsteady steps because of the wild path he had decided to take. My mother was there too, on his side; and they were laughing. Why did this simplicity not last a bit longer? Everyone was happy and it was so perfect. The palms of my hands were playing with his cheeks and my feet kicking softly his arms but he was holding me firmly; his fingers on my ankles. My sister had stayed with my grandmother at home. She had a very small cottage outside a seaside village; near a lighthouse where an old captain lived the last pages of his peculiar love story with the sea. His name was McCarthy and his three sons had died, taken away by the fury of a wave on a stormy day. His wife Edna had passed away a year later, sadness drowning her heart until it stopped beating and she had closed her eyes, probably bitterly relieved.

At the age of six he tried to teach me baseball but in spite of the efforts we were both putting in this new experience, we failed lamentably and it's when he decided to start a long and extremely personal process. I always took it seriously for knowing he was opening his heart to me and I was touched; proud he had chosen me to taste one of his greatest passions; poetry. I learned to be sensitive to the words, to their tones and above their meanings, the thousand faces they can carry on. It's another universe where the routine of our day takes a whole different dimension and you forget all the rest. When you feel down and lonely, they look after you like a row of peaceful soldiers ready to defend your soul as long as you dare to believe in their power. The first lines steal your heart and embrace you into a whirl of sounds and then you fly high, so high; until the last word comes out and reality hits you back with the abruptness of an old nothingness. But you've been bewitched and initiated to the addicting mystery of poetry.

_This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary_

_The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue._

_The grasses unload their grieves on my feet as if I were God_

_Prickling my ankles and murmuring of their humility_

_Fumy, spirituous mists inhabit this place._

_Separated from my house by a row of headstones._

_I simply cannot see where there is to get to._

The Moon and the Yew tree, this is the first poem I learned from him. I was six, just a kid. I was very close to him for all the things he used to represent: knowledge, strength, love, care. I admired him and I still do somehow, in my own way. He died of a heart attack on a Thursday morning and even though he left us behind, I'm sure he's still looking after our smiles; he's my lucky star, my lucky invisible star. I never said goodbye to him. I don't want to.

I still need him.

Karen stepped out of the building and crossed the street, pushing absent-mindedly the doors of the coffee store where Will and Leah were waiting. The paleness of her skin seemed to find a reflection in the depths of her features and the confusion of her eyes. As much as she knew them, words still could trouble her heart.

What if I lose Will? What if he dies? I don't want my daughter to live what I still have to bear now and repeat then the mistakes my mother made.


	6. On Christmas Eve

He had caressed her stomach that morning; turning around and embracing her body, kissing her neck and wishing nothing but staying in bed a bit longer for not saying his whole life. The blanket was soft and so warm, contrasting with the icy blueness of the sky and the snow falling down quietly on the terrace. A winter in New York had no equivalence in any other place of the world when the buildings turned into white sculptures protecting their entrails; keeping safe their secrets and the lights in the streets making the eyes sparkle, the smiles brighten. It had been a sweet moment of intimacy, a required one during which they hadn't said a word; barely moved. And as her fingers had begun to play with his, Karen had just wondered why and how she could be there now, holding Will tight in the tenderness of a Christmas morning as the strength of her feelings for him had stolen her heart to make it beat on its own; without her controlling it. But if confusion seemed to have wrapped up her mind since she had plunged into this new life, she still was sure of that; she loved him, she really did.

The routine had come back little by little in the craziness of important days, making the hours fly away at an impressive pace and the wonders press against themselves in the dark-haired woman's head. Her shaking fingers grabbed the piece of paper that she hadn't finally sent, for some reasons. It had stayed at the bottom of her purse for a couple of days then she had been about to throw it away but had stopped in the last seconds and opened her chest of drawers to let it disappear among her clothes. It may be invisible to the eye but not to the heart and so Karen's mind had quickly focalized on it, the silence of her gesture. And she was there, now, looking blankly at the invitation she had preferred to keep away from her mother; no matter how horrible it could sound, she just hadn't wanted her presence for Christmas Eve. After all there was still 364 other days if Lois felt like seeing Leah and what had appeared like a sage decision by then looked more and more like her biggest mistake as the smell of the dinner was making its way all over the flat and the family spirit was at last setting off.

She passed her hand along the little back and let her fingers run through the hair before planting a kiss on her temple, enjoying the heat of her daughter's body against her; observing in silence the guests going around, glass in hand, laughing and speaking loud. Leaning on a wall, the millionaire pouted before the bubbles of champagne that she still couldn't have for having decided to breastfeed Leah; then sighed, murmuring to the new-born.

"Look at them, honey… They're all crazy; family and friends. Very soon you will realize how they're indispensable to your life. Relations are addicting, almost as much as what they're drinking. I know someone's missing but please, forgive me. I'm kind of weak sometimes, you know and I just couldn't do that."

"How is my favorite granddaughter?"

The sudden veil of sadness that her last comment had caused vanished suddenly as Marilyn approached Karen, her arms wide opened to the baby. Swallowing back her bitter feelings, the dark-haired woman smiled and gave Leah to Will's mother.

"She's fine. I just changed her, that's why I had left for a couple of minutes…"

Seeing how the blonde was only paying attention to the new-born, the end of her sentence stayed suspended in the air at the same time as an irrepressible urge to find back the attorney's arms started boiling in her veins.

"Where is your mother, Karen? I'm surprised she's not here."

It fall down like an ice storm of fire over her heart but it only got reflected in the space of public showing by a shrug.

"Oh, she couldn't make it. She's busy… Excuse me."

Karen left, nodding at Marilyn politely so that she may spend some time with Leah and she went straight to Will, passing her arms around his waist from behind as he was preparing the last dishes. She kissed his shoulder and closed her eyes very firmly to prevent the tears from running on her cheeks.

"I love you, Will."

He turned around and pushed away a strand of hair hiding her hazel eyes. She tried to smile at him but all her efforts of lying had been put into making sure that his mother would feel happy and so she failed; staring at him with the regret of her quiet choices. His hand slid along her cheek and caressed her earlobe softly; the heat of his skin was reassuring.

"Are you okay, Kare?"

"I don't know; I'm not sure."

She leaned over and captured his lips in a sensual kiss until a flash blinded them and they broke apart, looking at Grace who was grinning; a digital cam in hand.

"Souvenir, souvenir…"

Thumbs up, the interior designer went away with a troubling lightness, balancing on her feet like a little girl.

"She's drunk."

Will raised his eyebrows, then nodded to Karen before clearing his voice and announcing that the meal was ready. She was sitting down at the table, laughing heartedly with Jack over some childish detail that nobody but them had noticed when someone knocked on the door; making all the faces turn around, surprised.

"It's open!"

His breath was soft and warm against her ear when her heart stopped beating and she gasped, confused by the wave of feelings invading her soul. She just felt like crying.

"Merry Christmas, Karen; you both deserve it."

The stupefaction had been substituted by a growing disbelief on her face as Lois made her way surely until her and planted a kiss on her cheek, hugging her tightly. The awkwardness of the gesture had passed unnoticed for everyone but Karen as the tension in her mother's arms went straight to her heart. Swallowing back her tears, the millionaire frowned and shook her head; biting her lower lip.

"Thank you for being here…"

She waited for quite a while before turning her face and locking her eyes with Will's, pressing his hand. Everybody seemed to be focalized on a conversation with a respective neighbor and perhaps she saw in this moment the right opportunity to get some privacy and even though it only lasted a few seconds and nobody noticed it, it would remain engraved in her mind for the rest of her life as she smiled against his mouth and murmured in a light kiss.

"Thank you so much."


	7. His name is Will

I always loved him.

He rushed in the office one morning and I knew I loved him; like that, right away. He came in with Grace and for some reason they were both laughing, not paying attention at all to me. I got intrigued by the voice of this man that had turned his back at me or had simply not noticed my presence for being focalized on the sweet moment he was spending with his friend and it set off everything; my heart pounding loud in my chest, my hands shaking, and this certainty that I couldn't be wrong, it had to be him. And when he finally looked at me, I knew it was too late and I had already fallen for him. This is love at first sight, probably the most powerful one and so painful too when reality hits you back and you know that all these feelings will stay trapped in your heart; for being impossible. I carried on a diamond ring on my left finger that kept me away from Will and anyway, he wasn't supposed to be interested at all so I never let my fantasies win over my mind; then life went on.

We became friends, very good ones. Our relation was extremely subtle, a bit warped perhaps; unless he had simply understood how awkward I was when it came to deal with sentiments and so he played all along. Since the very beginning we cared about each other but in our own peculiar way. We teased constantly whenever we were in public as if recognizing the slightest ounce of real care would have led us to an unbearable state of seriousness, vaguely shameful. Feelings are intimidating, I guess. That's why we chose not to say them out loud and I loved it for being something between him and me; the two of us, the only thing we really owned and controlled in our lives. From time to time I allowed myself to be more down-to-earth, humble. It's not that it costs me a lot but I can't really get to trust people; not completely, you know. I simply hid behind every single sharp comment a tender smile, an honest hug and he knew it worked like that. I have always relied on him, as much as I tried not to for barely knowing him; he was still a stranger when I told him about my doubts, some of my insecurities that may sound extremely ordinary but so hard to say out loud. I hate being weak but I may need a rest, sometimes.

I have been horrible with him but he has never let me down. I wish I could come backwards and erase my scandalous demeanor, substituting it by light kisses and warm smiles. I would like to put aside all these ridiculous fits of rage and the nasty words I threw in his face way too many times. It was just a matter of pride and I went above our game, our implicit agreement, hurting him without any reason but this strong anger towards myself; for loving him so much. I had never cried for him before London because I always knew that it would mean I had abdicated to the truth. I observed him in silence with the frustration of distance and the bitterness of my soul. But he was still my friend; an extremely important friend.

I hadn't planned anything. On the contrary, I always did my best so that Will stayed away from my feelings, the real ones. It was only supposed to be a hug because I was going through a very hard patch, some stressful moment after the loss of Stanley. I don't know why I kissed him. I don't know why I chose that day to make all these years of control over myself fly away within a second when my lips met his. I forgot everything, then. My lonely dreams of some impossible happiness seemed to have reached my existence, at last but when we broke apart this odd sensation to have ruined everything wrapped me up and never really left me until then. Even now that we have a child together and we are obviously building something concrete, I can't help thinking that he is doing it by pity; afraid he could disappoint me and break into pieces the sweet friendship I care way too much about. He's so attentive and nice while I'm just a bitch; sorry… But still, I know I don't deserve him.

I have always prevented myself from falling in love with the men whom I spent some time just in order the inevitable separation didn't hurt too much. And it worked to perfection until Will responded to my kiss and things got taken away by a sort of confusing and fast whirl in which I feel so fine while I shouldn't; because anyway the end is always the same and we find ourselves sat down on the floor, trying to drown our tears in a bottle of wine in the darkness of our thoughts, no matter the sun is shining or the moon is lighting up our face. We have only been dating for a year… What is it in a whole life? We should vaguely be thinking about moving together or not even, just the destination of our next vacations. But we are already far ahead of that and it's scaring because I'm so addicted to it.

I guess he wants to propose me. We were at the restaurant to celebrate our first anniversary when he said that he wanted to ask me something. But then I went into labor and the question got lost between this awkward evening and our new life with Leah. Perhaps he thinks I forgot about it and he's waiting now for the right time when intimacy will come back and then I will ruin everything. I don't want to get married, not again. This is way too much connected to my past and it's a bit sad to be repeated. My existence has changed since I'm with Will and I don't want to come backwards. By marrying him I know I will sign the end of our relationship and I'm not ready for that if only I am one day.

How could he know about that? I have never told him and as now we have a child he must assume that a wedding would be a pure logic. He's right somehow; this is the classic evolution of life but I'm not made for it. I mistook the symbol of this ceremony and ruined it for a very long while now. I used marriage for other purposes that sincere feelings and it's how I see it now; a sort of arrangement to make money. I'm disgusting. You see, I don't deserve him. And what if I'm wrong? What if I come up with it and realize that he wasn't thinking about marrying me? I wouldn't be relieved either; just troubled, ashamed and disappointed in spite of all. Yes, I'm antithetic.

The snow had stopped falling when Karen embraced what looked like now an old routine; stepping out of the building, crossing the street quickly, pushing the doors of the coffee store and finding back at last a burning sensation of life when she saw Will holding Leah.

I don't have any particular plan with Will. I just want to be happy and spend the rest of my life with him.


	8. Taking me down

Perhaps she should have taken a deep breath and tried to concentrate on Leah. She could have come up with a hundred different things in order to avoid it unless it was written somewhere; that it had to happen, that day, no matter the way she would behave. She was indeed tired and felt a bit lost, halfway between an idyllic life and the demons of her past, the fuzzy figures that hadn't stopped haunting her since she had left the hospital her daughter in her arms. She had lacked control and it sounded unacceptable for the person she was; the responsibilities she had accepted to have. A year earlier things would have been different but she had turned a page and wasn't alone. There was Will; and Leah. She had no right to treat them like that. The tears rushed out in a torrent of pain as she let herself fall down, hating herself for the weakness of the moment.

While waking up that morning, Karen had known that the day wouldn't be easy for not saying awkward and painful. She was still wondering why she had said yes on Christmas Eve. Maybe it was the family spirit that the evening had set off over her heart or the bewitching color of the wine getting mixed with its singular smell that had gone straight to her head and she had succumbed to an odd fantasy of hers. Whatever had actually happened by then, the millionaire was now about to pay for it; the laughs of her regrets resounding loudly in her mind to highlight her mistake. But she couldn't come backwards; just face her own decisions and the demise she had signed in silence through the sweetness of a gaze and the tenderness of forgiveness. She couldn't stay mad at her that long. It didn't work anymore as if her anger had got accustomed to the fury of her heart and it almost looked normal. After all if she always came back to this point, there was probably a reason to; a sign. She hated herself so much for doing that, nourishing her resentment with the love of a child.

His kiss had sounded sad, empty. He had promised to stay with her just to be sure that everything would be alright but a sudden call from the office had pushed the attorney to leave unexpectedly. She wasn't mad at Will for it; it was his job and a lot of things depended on it. Besides he was good at it and when we have the luck to appreciate a work as much as he did, then it's in our power to protect it and make it last. It's so rare to be happy; we can't ruin it.

"She must be hungry. When did you feed her for the last time? She's a new-born, not a doll. She has to eat at regular times."

Holding Leah against her shoulder, rubbing her back to ease her tears, Karen was pacing the living room anxiously; vaguely ashamed in front of Lois. She had improved a lot since the hospital and for a whole week, at last, mother and daughter had bonded happily through a reassuring and comforting routine. But it was still probably too early and as soon as the baby showed some impatience or pain, the dark-haired woman felt disarmed, frightened and helpless. Seven days of perfect happiness had had to come to an end right on the afternoon Karen's mother was supposed to come and even though it wouldn't be said out loud, the millionaire knew she would be judged and the sentence would be sharp, implicitly or not. She just wanted to prove her mother that she could take care of a new-born properly and so her irrepressible need of independence would find its brightness in the victory of her acts but Leah had suddenly burst into tears; taking away Karen's disillusions of some perfect dreams. Closing her eyes before a subtle headache and a wave of burning tears, she shrugged.

"She's not hungry. I fed her an hour ago. I was finishing when you arrived."

"Hold her higher; this position isn't good for her back. Don't be so nervous, she can feel it and that's why she can't calm down. Put her on her crib. Hum a lullaby and caress her temple slowly. She will love it."

Rolling her eyes in exasperation, the millionaire sighed heavily; the tension of the situation weighing more and more over her injured soul.

"That doesn't work with her; probably because I sing like shit. Dad shouldn't have taught me about poetry but given me singing classes."

"Then what do you do when she's like that? What does Will do?"

Shrugging for the thousandth time, Karen finally put down Leah; biting her lower lip, worried. How come her daughter's cries could make her heart break into pieces like that? Her fingers grabbed the nets of the blue navy folding crib they had bought for the basement floor and short getaways on weekend as her eyes got lost in the desperate contemplation of the baby's red face.

"We don't have any special trick. Sometimes we put music… She likes Duke Ellington. Will likes sitting down next to her and caressed then the back of her hand. We just try to make her understand that we look after her, whatever the degree of her sadness."

"But she needs a routine. Damn, Karen, as her mother you have to give her references!"

She had probably said it with the most innocent intention and the light of truth but the statement hit the millionaire's heart with the violence of a gunshot and her fury began to bleed over her burning organ. Still clutched to the bed, the dark-haired woman turned her face towards Lois, her hazel eyes sending a frosty gaze of disbelief and pain. Her breath was loud in spite of the control she was trying to get over it; in vain obviously. Without realizing it, her mother had set off the springs of her deepest injuries.

"Who do you think you are to speak about references? How dare you to give me some fucking advices when the failure of your own motherhood led me to shit? I can't believe that… That's so typical of you; this latent idea you're doing it all right and the others are nothing. But I'm going to tell you something, you're exactly the kind of person I want my daughter stay away from. You want to speak about routine? Oh yes, yours was a wonderful heaven. That's probably why I decided to leave in the middle of the night…"

"I didn't force you to. We all make mistakes and perhaps I've not been right during the whole time but how easy is it to you to find yourself alone all of a sudden, in charge of two kids while the only man you loved died? I did my best to make you happy. I took you everywhere, to South Africa…"

"Oh and I should thank you for that, maybe? South Africa is the most disgusting place you ever dragged me to! Bloody hell, I witnessed torture and murders, there. And I wasn't even ten. That's not your fault, you're right. But still, you weren't there when it happened. One more time you had left me alone and I have to deal with those images in my head for the rest of my life! Where had you been to?"

"I was at the Embassy to get our passports back and rush out the country as soon as this exact night. I had thought this man would be a great figure for you and then I found out about what was going on. I came back right away to you when I'd been told about it."

Karen gasped, completely unaware of the loud cries coming from the crib. It was just about the screams of her heart for bleeding so much; so painfully.

"So you knew about it? You knew what I had seen, in spite of my silence and all the rest?"

Her degree of anger had reached a state where whispering seemed even more threatening if only her shaking tone of voice didn't reveal her invisible tears. Lois nodded, vaguely taken aback; confused by her daughter's question.

"Of course, I knew. That's why I came back immediately."

"And that's why we never spoke about it; you never took me in your arms or tried to reassure me."

It seemed the whirl of her stormy feelings had gone away all of sudden, getting substituted by an exhausting emptiness, a loud silence. A smile of disbelief played on her lips and she raised her eyebrows; then frowned, closing her eyes for a couple of seconds before looking back at her mother blankly.

"Go away. You have nothing to do here. Go away. You know, all I wanted when I left on Christmas Eve twenty years ago was you to catch me up back and together we would have tried to fix it but something has changed. I'm not sixteen anymore. It's way too late. Leave. Get the hell out of here. You're not welcome anymore if only you've actually been once."

And Lois had left, closing the door quietly behind her after having put down awkwardly on the coffee table a small box wrapped with a blue sky paper.

"This is for Leah."

Her hazel eyes had stared blankly at the present for a couple of minutes, swearing loud in her head that she wasn't better than her own mother. They hadn't even managed to make it long enough so that they may share the slightest thing like the joy that a teddy bear could bring to a baby. And they came out without any warning, warm and salty against her cheeks; sliding on her lips. The tears blinded her vision and Karen let herself fall down on the floor, turning her back at Leah.

Lord knows why it had stayed there but her weak state of mind saw it as a sign, then; hypnotizing like the blue letters printed over the bottle. She hesitated for a few seconds before the first sip burning her throat; but the vodka slid down in her body with the easiness of experience and she forgot everything. Next thing she noticed was that Leah had stopped crying, at last.

The bottle was empty.

It was over now.


	9. The element

I don't feel like talking anymore. I have come to this point when the slightest decision I take seems to steal my breath and it's exhausting. For a very long time I thought I was dead inside as if all my efforts to close the doors to any emotional response of my heart had found a reward in the agony of my feelings. Somehow it was easier to keep on living with this kind of theory. There was no disappointment, no fear; no particular regret. The days took me away in a pointless routine and I let them do, passivity becoming the mask of my pains. As much as I know that my mind is full of dark thoughts, suicide has never appeared to me like an appealing solution. I guess I'm too alive for that. Do you see what I mean? Life feeds me of an odd sensation, an addicting one. And perhaps I'm depressed but I feel like going on for some ridiculous reason. I want to believe that I haven't lost all my hopes. I can't accept this idea, not now. I wish I could be different… So how about we both listen to the silence and try to enjoy the calmness it always brings to troubled souls? I need a rest, a break; whatever you call this moment when there's nobody but you and the anonymity of existence. I like it. I like being alone as long as I know it won't last forever because, yes, I need them so much.

We made love last night. It tasted of the first times with this weird apprehension over the pain; the awkwardness of a gesture. And from all this anxious anticipation it only resulted to be extremely sweet, perfect. I gave birth to Leah two months ago and from then on I never tried to find out the least detail that would bring me back to the old times. I must be crazy because my past is haunting me in an insane way and that's why I'm here today but still, I know there are brighter parts of my life that I also left behind. My intimacy with Will is one of them. I needed this aspect of our relationship in the most innocent and subconscious way. We both have been focalized on so many things since December. Everything happened in a rush, an unexpected one. I wasn't supposed to go into labor that early and so we didn't have time to settle down all the rest in order to be really prepared for what was coming, our parenthood. It's like mourning someone and refusing to let it go or cursing life for not having had time to say goodbye and it's too late now. We hadn't finished anything properly and maybe my current confusion is connected to it somehow. I need to be reassured that I'm doing right and unfortunately everything went too quickly for that. I'm not saying that I regret it, not at all. But obviously I didn't start on the right bases.

I have been lacking references during all this time; just a detail that would make the difference and bring to my heart the required warmness. I got it last night, at last. We were just cuddling in bed and for the very first time since Leah is here, I relaxed and let my instincts guide me. I listen to the desires of my soul; and Will's ones too. It was just logical, a sort of natural feeling that we had to do it because it was what we really wanted. I had almost forgotten about this fluidity typical of us. I have never experienced it before, with any other man that shared my existence. And I feel guilty somehow for having put it aside while it's the exact definition of our relation. I'm way too concentrated on myself, on my problems; my insecurities and all these memories coming back to my mind, one after another. I pretended I was looking for the resolution of the situation but I was actually turning my back at it because it's Will; it comes from him, just him.

I was scared to death all of a sudden when I realized where our caresses were leading us to. It wasn't because of the pain or the physical changes that maternity had brought to my body but the dreadful feeling I had actually lost him. I don't know why I came to such conclusion; the total submission of my mind before disappointment and fragility. I'm so afraid he could leave me if I happened to make the slightest mistake. He held me tight last night; as if he didn't want me to go away. He was silent but the honesty of his gaze was sharply contrasting with the absence of his voice, the invisibility of his words. And then I understood. He had missed me. He never protests, never argues against my odd behavior that motherhood seems to have set off in me. To be honest I wonder where he finds the strength to bear that because I'm horrible and selfish. I guess he loves me; and it has nothing to do with luck but the sign I should face everything and keep on living. I think it's time for me to make the peace, to set off the whole process that will lead me to a state of relieved happiness. I am moving forward, aren't I? I owe it to Will.

I owe him a lot of things.

I don't feel lighter this morning but maybe not so lonely, not anymore. There's still a lot of things left for being fixed but I may be a little more hopeful than I was before. It's great to feel like we're belonging with someone, a definite life. You let your heart feed back itself with the sentiments of your life and every single aspect of the day turns into a clearer shade; the blue of the sky, the smell of the snow and the quietness of a reassuring routine. It produces a whole in harmony with the reason why we are here.

Isn't it weird how the words can come easily to my lips when all I said I actually wanted was to remain quiet and take a retrospective breath or two? I was bitter when I passed this door, on the verge of plunging into a painful analyze of my current state of mind. But I feel better now. The words didn't burn my throat; they slid along it peacefully and joined my heart in a sweet embrace. I guess they saved me. They're powerful, aren't they? I wish I were a word too. I wish I could save me.

She jumped as the slamming of the doors resounded in her back and instead of crossing quickly the street still lost in her thoughts, Karen stopped on the sidewalk and observed the Saturday morning scene of The Village; how the sun was lighting up the asphalt and the trees seem tall, beautifully white of snow. She took a deep breath and smiled, bewitched by New York in the middle of the winter and it's only after a couple of minutes that she entered the coffee store; then rushed towards Will and Leah, her family.

I wish I could say that to Will; all the things he means to me. But I can't; I'm not strong enough to so I live it in my head and pray he can read through my gaze.


	10. Missing Beverly Leslie

The heat of his hand on hers was soft and calm like his smiles in the morning when the sun was making its way higher in the sky, caressing her face with a peculiar serenity; still halfway between her dreams and the constancy of the day. It was just a detail but a sweet one; imperceptible for everyone but her and she loved it a lot. They crossed the street and headed silently towards Saint Luke's Place where the sage row of brownstones gave a shade of authenticity to the old district of The Village; a confined nest of peace not that far from the turmoil of Broadway and the cacophony of other boiling avenues. If the opportunity had showed up through the sign of a sale, Karen wouldn't have hesitated the slightest second and she would have given anything to become the owner of one of the remarkable houses; pure masterpiece of the past century. You couldn't help but feel safe, there, in the shadows of the trees; protected by the bricks of the two-story buildings. It reminded her of Hampstead and the delicacy of its tortuous streets; a bewitching labyrinth of roses and splendid homes keeping behind their walls the secrets of their charms. But the houses of Saint Luke's place were never for sale and so the millionaire nourished her mind of some fantasies of hers.

Tightening her grip on Will's arm, she looked furtively at Leah who was sleeping against the attorney; hidden by the impressive amount of clothes that a winter in New York required for new-born babies in spite of the limpid blue sky and the irradiant sun of the afternoon. The snow was melting in a whirl of glimmering icy diamonds but for not being a novice, the dark-haired woman knew that the spring was still far from imposing itself definitely. There would be rain, the wind fighting with gray clouds before the smell of flowers going to people's head with a unique lightness. It was just break on a Saturday afternoon, a sweet interlude and the coldness would come back very soon. The days were passing by and the novelty of a delicious routine was invading her life little by little, a subtle mixed of baby scent and the tenderness of love. The bases were being settled down as the whole Will and she were building appeared in a more concrete way to her eyes, at last. She was still far from the perfection her ideals tended to but for the very first time she felt secured, almost hopeful.

"I booked a table for two at Blue Hills, for this evening."

The unexpected statement and the delicacy of the attention made her smile and she leaned up to kiss Will's cheek; her hand sliding along his jaw in a motion of care. But all of a sudden she couldn't help but frown; then stopped walking, obviously troubled.

"What are we going to do with Leah? I'm afraid they don't accept babies."

"Grace is okay to look after her."

"Oh."

The pain was sharp and tasted of disappointment somehow; the tone of her voice hiding with difficulty the implicit embarrassment caused by the situation. Will turned around and lifted her head, making eye-contact with Karen.

"She can take care of Leah, you know. Don't you trust her? I still can call my mum though if it can make you feel more comfortable."

"No, it's not that. I rely on Gracie. It's just… I don't know…"

She shrugged and looked down timidly, twisting her hands with an evident nervousness. How could she let him understand about the veil of sadness that it spread over her heart without sounding stupid, ashamed? A woman passed next to her, pushing a baby stroller; the wheels making the snow and the damp asphalt crackle like flames in a fireplace. She looked at her for a couple of seconds before concentrating back on the carrier in which her daughter was resting, sleeping peacefully. Karen took a deep breath and sighed, abdicating under the weight of her feelings.

"The truth is that it will be the first time, Will. It will be the first time that we will leave our child. Until now we always managed to be present next to her and… I don't know; it's a lot of responsibilities. What if something happens and we're not there?"

"It's okay, Karen. Why would something happen? And even if it does well I know that Grace will do her best to keep Leah safe and of course we will back immediately."

"I'm just afraid of being far from her while she has an accident or something. I will feel guilty for the rest of my life, then."

"I know what you mean but we can't live locked in our world for the rest of our life. We have to go on…"

"Yeah, you're right. It's just hard."

Rubbing her daughter's head, Karen planted then a kiss on it; closing her eyes to let the smell of baby lotion reassure her.

"I'm going to miss you, honey. And be nice with Grace unless we put on a webcam and film the whole despair of your aunt in order to increase our already impressive collection of 'the Worst of Grace Adler'…"

They had stopped by a coffee shop when she happened to meet him, by accident. She was holding a baby bottle, on her way to the counter in order to get some water when she froze and smiled brightly at the sound of his voice.

"So those little gossips were true… Karen Walker is giving into a new sort of activities these days? Obviously she also changed her drinking habits. Since when do you like milk?"

And he was there, as flamboyant and deliciously annoying as ever; so short and ridiculous. It was good to see him.

"My oh my, Beverly Leslie wandering through the Village… Why aren't I surprised?"

Leaning against the counter the little man shrugged, pushing away the evident truth and adopting a useless lie; just in order to see Karen smile. He had always loved it, the way her lips lit up her features. She was beautiful, mysteriously appealing to his tastes.

"So where is this baby of yours? I assume you didn't go away just for having the pleasure to live in the anonymity of common people?"

"She's there, with Will. You want to see her? Oh and by the way, I'm already a star in the neighborhood."

She turned on her heels and led her singular friend to Leah who was now wide awake in Will's arms. Beverly ended up sitting down and they conversed joyfully for a couple of hours, looking at the new-born from time to time, enjoying their coffees and the warm afternoon. Karen felt light throughout it. Cuddled in Will's embrace, she took the most of the unexpected presence of the millionaire, feeding herself with his fresh vitality. The sun went down and they found themselves on the sidewalk, facing each other for imminent goodbyes. With awkwardness she leaned over and hugged her friend but froze as his tiny voice reached her ear in a murmur.

"You shouldn't have gone away. We lost our queen and the parties are not the same anymore, without you. You're still welcome you know, in our own way of course."

Beverly caressed Leah's cheek and smiled brightly at the sleeping baby.

"You're a very cute doll, miss. And you're lucky. You have the most awesome mother that any kid could wish for. But take care of her, she's kind of weak sometimes."

And he vanished at the corner of the street, almost as quickly as he had come up earlier in the afternoon. A melancholic smile played on the dark-haired woman's lips as she locked her eyes with the attorney's.

"Who would have thought that I would miss him?"


	11. Being addicted

I thought they would notice me then; not for being smarter or cooler but just realized that I did exist. That's why I started and had my first drink when I was fifteen. It was whisky and I hated it; more for the act in itself than the taste because I knew I hadn't taken the right decision but I thought it was too late to come backwards and it's how I became the Karen everyone knew and loved. I like some things about her but for some reason I only see the rest: the bad temper, the vulgarity and the lies. I have a low self-esteem, how weird is that when the appearances let you think the exact opposite? Perhaps I'm just that, a wall of pretention; and so I can hide the nothingness of my soul behind.

I stopped breastfeeding Leah when I looked at the bottle in front of me. Within a minute I had emptied it. It cost me a lot to take my daughter in my arms and dare to look at her as if nothing had happened. Until then I used to think that I could control my relation with alcohol and perhaps I actually did but the slightest argument with my mother led me to vodka. It's not normal. People tend to burst into tears or throw themselves over ice-cream; soft solutions in a word. But if I see through a drink a reassuring and comforting solution to my problems then I may have to reconsider the degree of dependence I keep up with it.

It's a sweet sensation, as if we were floating on a cloud and it's so smooth; so calm and silent. Life seems to have slowed down and a weight taken off of your shoulders. You know it won't last that long but it's better than nothing; being able to escape from your pain for a couple of hours. You don't really forget anything but you stop caring about it and that's why it's addicting in itself. It's a drug, even more combined with the pills. I didn't take any yet but it's just because we don't have any left. It didn't bother me that much, you know; damaging my body, spending most of my time completely drunk and high. But I can't stand it anymore because of Leah and Will. I feel guilty for what I'm doing to them. I'm ruining a lot of things. I have a family now and I guess it's changing my perspectives. Somehow it's positive but the failure weighs even more then. That's why I need help.

I told them that I was tired and anyway it was time to get Leah accustomed to baby bottles because I'm going back to work very soon. Since the very beginning we chose to alternate but it looks like I preferred alcohol over my own daughter so I put an end to it. Breasfeeding is a great experience though; a sweet moment of intimacy between a mother and her child. Wherever you are, as soon as you start it, something sets off in you. Perhaps it's that mysterious and so famous maternal fusion; I don't really know. I loved it though and what is sure is that I miss it now.

I don't like the word 'alcoholic'; it's shameful and inspires nothing but pity. I prefer to say that I'm addicted. It doesn't change anything at the end. I drink, that's all. It just softens the opinion I have on me; a little you know. I can't say it to Will for evident reasons. What would I do if he left me? He's all what I have and I'm building things with him; the most important aspects of my life, a family. Why am I ruining it like that between a glass of Chardonnay and a bottle of vodka? This is all what I have always wanted to get, one of the reasons why I dropped out my studies in Harvard and now I'm getting it I actually send it to hell. What's wrong with me? I don't think I'm depressed but lost; trapped into my mistakes, sliding through my up and downs.

Perhaps we should go away for a while. I mean some fresh air is always welcome. Besides he knows that I'm not fine and I'm making him suffer for not being able to confess my problems to him. It's not a matter of trust. Unfortunately it goes above that. It has to do with myself and the fear I have before the evocation of my feelings. He saw me cry, in pain, looking for help. He knows I can be weak sometimes but even with that and the way he always proved me that he was there to back me up, I don't get it. It's not fair because he shouldn't have to pay for my insecurities.

It comes up little by little. It may be just a word or a gaze; a vague and furtive gesture that let him understand what's going on in my mind. I feel fine then; and relieved. But those moments are so rare. I usually throw a fit inside of me and stay silent before him. I love the way he hugs me when I do. It seems oppressive, almost unbearable. But very soon the heat of his arms warms up my body; and my heart. I don't forget the pain, anything. But still, he manages to ease my anxiety in a natural way; a sweet one which unique sequel is happiness. It's another kind of addiction but there's nothing to be ashamed of with it. And I dare to look at my daughter without feeling guilty.

Karen stepped out of the building with the awkward sensation that she had left something behind; a heavy detail that used to weigh on her heart. But reality was odd without it, hardly recognizable. She crossed the sidewalk absent-mindedly and stopped as she opened the doors of the coffee shop. She looked at Will from there, her wonders twirling around in her head, and rushed in his arms all of a sudden, murmuring in his ear how she loved him.

Will is the only one who can save me.


	12. An angel's falling

From all the men she had married, he had probably been the sweetest one, attentive to the movements of her heart and the way she used to hide her feelings. Perhaps he simply loved her and it was a protective attempt, a sort of logical and natural tenderness towards her troubled mind. He was never mad at her. As a matter of fact, the fits she could throw from time to time made his eyes sparkle with delight and he looked in silence at her extravagant remarks, excessive gestures and scandalous demeanor with amusement. No matter she was yelling or flashing a bright and sincere smile, he was always happy to be on her side; the serenity of his features contrasting with the hurricane of Karen's routine.

His children had never been a problem in themselves. She had accepted them with the awkwardness of the person who is the last one to arrive in a crowded room. She may have felt in the way for a while but very soon the new situation had turned into a reassuring normality even though she had kept her distance with Mason and Olivia, somehow. She didn't know why she had married him exactly and getting attached to children for unfair reasons would have been wrong, extremely wrong. He had no doubts about her lack of feelings but considered himself as enough lucky to have had the opportunity to share some time with her and perhaps the passing of time would change some things. It did but probably not in the expected way. Behind her studied postures, the dark-haired woman let her guard fall down and became closer to his son and his daughter. And then he died, all of a sudden. As if nothing had happened, everyone got back to a previous existence; a different path and they barely said goodbye in spite of the years, in spite of the connections they couldn't ignore.

The day after the funeral, she realized that she would miss them a lot. The penthouse seemed so cold, empty and silent without their presence by her side. Not that she would have fought for some custody; after all she wasn't their mother and had absolutely no right over them as Kathy was still alive but as she had turned the lights of the library off that night, Karen had come to the evidence that Mason and Olivia would always be in her heart. It was too bad that Stanley wasn't there to witness it. He would have been proud.

The night had been short for Leah having cried a bit more than usual and so Karen had found herself tired while the sun had warmed up her face in the first hours of the morning. Perhaps it was just that, the need to get some more sleep and her fragility was flirting now with the abyssal of her fears. She wouldn't drink today though; just sit down on the couch and try to calm down her daughter's cries. Then, perhaps, head for a walk to find back the sentiment she was alive. Staying at home was depressing, way too monotone; and it reminded her of a time she had decided to leave behind but seemed to come back to her ironically, a sort of curse and she was born to be lonely. She closed her eyes as her palm made contact with Leah's stomach that was vibrating under the strength of the tears. It was troubling and intimidating to face, disarmed, the pain of a new-born who, unable to speak, was dealing with the complex control of the fit; the strength of angst. The skin turned red and the first tears appeared at the corner of the eyes before getting absorbed for being too dry. They lacked experience to get the same consistence as children's ones.

Doubts had grown in her head since the argument with her mother and the shameful failure over vodka. Something was turning down her hopes, a whirl of mistakes that she didn't manage to control anymore.

"Oh God…"

She leaned her head backwards, trying to ignore a pernicious headache as Leah's cries went on and all of a sudden she broke down, clenching her fists; swallowing back her own tears. She lacked required bases to be a good mother so she would never get it. Turning her face, the millionaire stared at her daughter blankly, a wave of pain for her incapacity burning her heart deeply; digging irreversible injuries over her sentiment to be useless. She frowned before the sharpness of the evidence, wondering why she had to fail where others succeeded and simply apologized in silence for giving up. She didn't have any other choice.

The phone rang and made her jump. Very slowly she pushed away her dark thoughts and came back to reality before answering. A smile began to play on her lips as she heard Olivia's voice but her joy vanished as fast as it had come up when the statement of the student hit her mind with the violence of an unexpected truth.

"Dad is alive."

It's funny how life can be cyclic. The years pass by and we manage to convince ourselves that the past will never reproduce itself because this is not how it works. There's a chronology to existence and the rules are clear, well definite; vaguely righteous. But one day, without knowing why exactly or how, we find ourselves back at the very beginning of our story; to the first image we have kept engraved in our mind. It was just supposed to be a memory, nothing more, nothing less. But this happens so many times that we should reconsider the way we play. We may have been wrong at one moment and saying that things are definitely over can be far from the reality of a life.

A bus stopped and people began to step out of it a bit half-asleep by the journey; this peculiar route they had shared with perfect strangers whom they would never see again. They were just mean to meet at one moment, for a couple of hours before coming back to the anonymity of their lives. She looked up from the bench she was sat on and her eyes locked with a teenager's, waiting for her turn to leave the bus. Twenty years had passed by since she had found herself at Port Authority; like this girl, looking all around, a bit lost. And now she was being observed; she had turned into the homeless girl she had contemplated from the window of the bus, the one who was dying. They had just switched their roles. She did look healthy and rich with her Chanel high heels and her Louis Vuitton suitcases but despair goes above social classes and she was just waiting for her turn now, like the homeless girl whose death had probably passed unnoticed and they had just found a baby on her lap; crying.

Her fingers moved subconsciously on the phone, typing a message without her even realizing it. She couldn't say why she did; perhaps it was Leah's heat against her chest and the vitality of the new-born, the desire to keep on living.

The phone vibrated on the desk and Grace looked up at the screen, concentrated though on her sketches. She frowned before the provenance of the message and to curiosity substituted panic when she read it. She grabbed her coat and rushed outside, hailing a cab; the despair of Karen's words resounding loud.

_I'm falling down. Help me._


	13. Epilogue

A friend of Grace told her that you would be perfect for me. That's why I came ten months ago. I would certainly not be here today if I hadn't sent this message while wandering aimlessly on the platforms of Port Authority. Lord knows where I would have landed and in what kind of state. Perhaps I would be dead or just have gone very far, leaving Will without any explanation in the middle of a weekday, drawing a line under his love as much as I know it's completely impossible. I would have tried to escape from happiness as my mother had done; as I had always said that I would never repeat. And I would have kept on breathing for some obscure reason; probably just in the hope that in spite of my stubborn ignorance, he would have come to me and made my fears fall down. But reality is different; and Will would just have gone on, hurt to death, like me. I may actually have a thing for sad endings, sometimes.

Leah made her first steps this morning. I was on the phone with my mother and when I turned around I saw her standing on her feet. It wasn't the first time she adopted such position but she might have decided to give a try and she walked towards me. It only lasted a couple of seconds, not enough time to actually realize what she had just done. I took her in my arms and it hit me then, all of a sudden. I saw the little sequence over and over in my head as I was holding her tightly. It's such a common thing, the most usual one. So how come it moves us so much when our children actually do it? I burst into tears and my heart got warmed up by a veil of pride; and joy. I told my mother about it; my voice was shaking. I heard her cries on the other end of the line and it's when I realized. I am fine, now. Sure I still have to deal with some things but I am done with the darkest ones and I can face the rest on my own. It sounds so obvious, so logical. For the very first time I felt my mother and I were doing right and when I looked back at my daughter the evidence was there. I'm so happy to be here, owning what I own. It may not be a lot but it's sincere.

And it's exactly what I always wanted.

I love New York; the sweetness of the sun on my skin in the spring and the purity of the snow in the winter, like today. This is something I will never get over; just a detail in our day-to-day life but it makes it so brighter. I love the smell of coffee in the morning when it stirs up my senses. I'm still in bed and it means that Will is going to poke his head through the door, with a mug and a couple of French toasts. It's still early because Leah is quiet and we take advantage of it to get some time; an intimate moment in bed, just the perfect amount of minutes to let our dreams go away as the tenderness of the day takes us in its arms for a soft embrace. I owe a lot to my friends for not saying my whole life. Since the day I met them, I fell under the charms of our complicity and I'm so lucky to have them… That's something I always knew but it seems even more evident now. Look at me! I can't stop smiling!

That's why I'm not going to come back here next week as I used to. I'm going to put an end to our Saturday morning appointments and at the same time say goodbye to Mandy. She's the bartender of the coffee shop opposite the street. It's where I usually go when I step out of this building because my family is there; Will and Leah. They never came to this office because they don't have to but all along this hour, I know they are just a few inches away from me, supporting me in silence and I love so much this moment when I push the doors of the store and they looked up. Their smiles are true and beautiful. I feel I'm cared and now I'm thinking about it, I'm going to miss it. But there are so many things left to live, on my own, with them. And if it doesn't have to happen every weekend at this place then the world is large, immense for a whole life to be filled. So I put an end to my analyze this morning; or just a parenthesis, who knows?

Will didn't propose me. I still don't know what he was about to ask me when I went into labor a year ago but there's a lot of time to come up with it. Leah's birth stirred up a whole series of events I had preferred to ignore, thinking they would end up going away by themselves. Apparently the weight of the years made them sharper and they hit me unexpectedly, with violence when I became a mother. And so many things happened, then; within a month I had to deal with my unbalanced state of mind, my injured past and the complicated events of the present like Stanley's comeback, the lack of communication between my mother and I. Alcohol was just a shield but thanks to you I got control over it. You made things clearer, brighter and hopeful. I'm done with those problems. I took a deep breath, put things into various categories and began to speak; with my mother, with Stanley, with Will, with everyone. The rest will come by itself and if it doesn't, well… I still have your address.

Karen stepped out of the building and turned around to face its wall of bricks; the golden mailbox and the flowerpots at the windows of the first story. She smiled as realizing that for coming there every week for a year now, she hadn't really observed it before. It seemed warm, friendly. She sighed and finally crossed the street; then pushed the doors of the coffee store for the last time. Will was sipping a hot chocolate and Leah was standing on her feet. Karen smiled brightly.

I made the peace with myself. I owe it to my family, my friends. What if I dare to look at my life and accept things how they come? I'm not alone in this story and even less lonely. Just listen to these light beats. They bring rhythm to my days, to my smiles. It's a little detail but it makes the difference; the peace of my heart.


End file.
